


A Time to Mourn

by lily8007



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 06:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily8007/pseuds/lily8007
Summary: After Bruce Wayne's death, his extended family mourns him and honors his legacy.  Selina Kyle is at the graveside for the burial when she realizes someone is missing from the final act of this tragedy.This fic fills the prompt "Death Fic" forTrope Bingo Round Twelve





	A Time to Mourn

_Batman cannot die.  Batman is an idea, a legend, and legends are immortal._

Wise words, but Bruce Wayne was just a man.  An extraordinary man, brilliant and compassionate and deeply frustrating, a man whom Selina Kyle loved deeply.

A man who wore some of the most advanced body armor ever seen on Earth, but nothing was foolproof.  And so he died, fighting to the last breath, and when rumors began to circulate in Gotham that the Bat had soared for the last time, _all_ of his children took to the rooftops in matching cowls and capes, the Bat-symbol emblazoned on their chests, a reminder to every criminal in town that Batman would never die.  Even Selina had put aside the cat-ears for something a little pointier, just for one night, to show them all that Batman lived still, that his legacy was immortal.

And yet, here she was, on an appropriately cold and damp November day, standing on the hill looking at the old headstones … and the new one, every letter sharply chiseled.

Bruce Wayne had an elaborate funeral, but this graveside service was only for those who had known the Bat.  The press stayed far away - except for a couple of reporters from Metropolis, Lois standing solemnly by Selina, Clark down at the foot of the hill with the other pallbearers.  Mostly his sons; only Bruce would adopt enough boys to carry him to his final rest.

Selina looked away from the long black car pulling up below, and scanned past the other mourners.  Most of the JLA was here, in somber black that didn’t suit any of them. She had to be strong, for them.  If Selina could bear witness to this, they could, too. And maybe somehow it would finally become real, not something her mind kept trying to flinch from, and they could all start to deal with the end of an era.

She’d brought Miss Kitty, of course, and no one had even looked askance at the black cat lying curled around her shoulders like a stole.  Miss Kitty purred loudly, which might’ve gotten her some looks if they could hear her. Few people realized that cats didn’t only purr when they were happy; they also purred when hurt, when suffering, to soothe themselves.  And Miss Kitty lent the throbbing hum of her purr to Selina in an attempt to comfort her mistress.

As the back of the hearse opened, Miss Kitty stopped purring, lifting her head.  Selina roused a little at that, and watched in surprise as the black cat leapt off her shoulder and trotted purposefully away.  A few of the others followed her gaze.

The cemetery hill was ringed by woods, the better to keep the public away, and Miss Kitty marched up to the trees, then sat down, staring intently at an old oak.  Lois glanced at Selina, then returned to looking at the cat; Cass watched the animal with a glassy calm that belied her heartbreak.

Miss Kitty meowed once, still staring, and Selina _knew_.  Her stomach dropped, but she had to deal with this.

She moved away from the grave, walking on legs that felt numb, and walked up behind her cat.  Miss Kitty gave her greeting chirp, tail quirked up behind her.

Selina found she was more _tired_ than anything else.  Grief was exhausting. And so she called out, “Come on.  I know you’re there.”

Talia al Ghul stepped out from behind the oak, obvious reluctance in every move.  She wore black, of course, and her eyes looked as shell-shocked as the gaze that Selina saw in the mirror.  “I did not intend any disturbance,” she murmured, but her shoulders were tense.

Hell, she probably expected to be ordered off the property, and everyone at the grave watching them probably expected a fight of some kind.  The two women had been rivals for years, and with Bruce’s death, emotions were obviously running high. Everyone watching expected Selina to tell her to leave, Talia to refuse, and all hell to break loose.

But her first words weren’t a challenge, she was trying to be conciliatory.  And she’d loved Bruce just as much as Selina had. As complicated as it had been, as much hurt as she and Bruce had put each other through, Selina knew perfectly well that he’d loved Talia, too.  For Damian’s sake, Selina had never spoken a word against her in his hearing, and in him she’d seen a side of his mother that few ever glimpsed.

Damian was sensitive, artistic, easily wounded by the people he cared for, and loved all animals deeply.  He hid all that beneath a facade of arrogance, pretending disdain, but Selina saw him more clearly. Even the most graceful cat alive sometimes slipped and fell, and afterwards they all pretended they’d _meant_ to do that, of course.  Selina had never tried to take his mother’s place, but she’d become a friend to Damian, and through him she’d realized there must be more than haughty pretension to Talia.  

They were both here to honor the man they loved.  And Talia had stood back, letting Selina have the family’s support, while she watched from her lonely vantage point and waited her turn to grieve.  There was a certain nobility in that, which Selina could respect. Even admire.

So she looked at her rival, and sighed.  “Talia, enough. Come down with the family where you belong.”

She saw those words hit, in the instant before Talia looked away, trying to hide her surprise and grief.  Before she could quite manage to compose herself, Selina stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You _are_ family, you know.  Come on. This is hard enough with all the kids patting me on the shoulder.  I can’t imagine trying to do it alone.”

“I’ve done everything alone,” Talia murmured, still looking away as if that would somehow hide her pain, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“So come with me,” Selina coaxed, as gently as trying to get a feral cat to take food from her hand.  “We’ll get through this together. Come up to the house after, people have been bringing food for two days, and we’ll break open the good scotch and toast him one more time.”

Talia finally looked at her, and the loss graven in her gaze made Selina catch her breath on a sob.  “I … you’re much too kind. The rest won’t want me there.”

“Your son will.  And everyone else can kiss my ass,” Selina said.  “If I say you’re welcome here, then you are. Come _on_ , Talia.  Bruce would want you here.”

That hurt her, Talia closing her eyes as if she’d taken a physical blow, and she sighed in surrender.  “Thank you, Selina.”

They walked back to the graveside together, Miss Kitty marching in front of them, and Selina met the couple of arched eyebrows with an implacable stare.  The pallbearers were coming up the hill now, and Damian faltered for a second to see his mother there. When the six of them surrendered their burden, he went to Talia’s side, and she kissed his cheek.

Selina didn’t remember the ceremony, the words spoken over the coffin.  Only the end, when each of them took a handful of soil and cast it into the grave.  Selina let the loam trickle through her fingers, and _there_ , that was the moment it became real for her.

No more laughing rooftop chases.  No more exasperated looks when he saw her handiwork in the news.  No more teasing a smile from him before he’d had his first coffee in the morning.  No more watching him with his kids, knowing that the Batman whom all the villains feared had one of the tenderest hearts Selina had ever seen.  No more waking up in the night and finding him there beside her, the pressure of his arm around her solid and reassuring, promising that she had a home where she belonged and a family who loved her, at last.  

 _So this is what it means to be widowed_ , she thought, and grief pounced on her, shook her like a bird in the jaws of a cat.  The howl of pain and rage in her heart was reduced by loss and emptiness to a tiny, strangled noise in her throat.

Only Talia heard it, and she put her arm around Selina’s shoulders then.   _Not alone,_ the gesture said, and Selina leaned into her gratefully.

 


End file.
